Chapter 37
The hallway leading to the visitation room was long and narrow, painted a pale institutional green that had faded to something closer to gray. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everything in a harsh, flat glare that made Naomi’s eyes ache.
Deputy Wallace—a stocky woman in her fifties with gray streaks in her hair and an expression that suggested she’d seen everything and been impressed by none of it—walked ahead of them.
“This way,” she said.
Naomi followed, Grace heavy and warm in her arms. Micah walked beside her, close enough that his shoulder occasionally brushed hers. She was grateful for that. For the reminder that she wasn’t alone in this place.
They passed through two more sets of locked doors, each one buzzing and clicking open after Deputy Wallace swiped her badge. The sound echoed down the empty corridors—metallic, final.
Naomi’s pulse quickened with each step.
The visiting room was smaller than she’d expected. A row of individual stations lined the far wall, each one separated by dividers. Plexiglass partitions ran to the ceiling, scarred and cloudy from years of use. Black phones hung on hooks on either side, just like she’d seen on TV.
Only two stations were occupied. A man in an orange jumpsuit sat at one, speaking quietly into the phone while a woman on the other side wiped tears from her face. At the other, a younger inmate leaned back in his chair, laughing at something the teenager across from him said.
Wallace gestured to an empty station near the end. “You’ll be here. She’ll be brought out in a minute.”
Naomi nodded and moved to the chair, settling Grace more securely in her arms. The baby was awake now, her dark eyes drifting across the ceiling. Micah stood a few feet back, giving her space but staying close enough to intervene if needed.
A few seconds later, a door opened on the far side of the room, and Sissy shuffled through.
She looked terrible.
Her hair hung limp and greasy around her face. Her skin was pale, almost gray, and dark circles shadowed her eyes. The orange jumpsuit hung loose on her frame, like she’d lost weight she couldn’t afford to lose.
But it was her eyes that hit Naomi the hardest.
They were hollow, exhausted, and desperate.
Sissy’s gaze found Grace, and her face crumpled.
She crossed the room quickly, stumbling slightly, and dropped into the chair on the other side of the glass. Her hands came up, pressing flat against the plexiglass, fingers splayed wide as if she could reach through it if she just tried hard enough.
Naomi’s throat tightened. She lifted the phone receiver with one hand, balancing Grace with the other.
Sissy grabbed the phone on her side, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Her voice cracked as she said, “She’s—she’s so big.”
“She’s growing every day.”
Sissy’s hand stayed pressed against the glass, and Naomi shifted Grace so she was facing forward, so Sissy could see her face.
Grace blinked at the glass and made a small cooing sound.
Tears began spilling down Sissy’s cheeks, and she pressed her forehead against the plexiglass, her shoulders shaking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, baby. I didn’t want to leave you. I didn’t—”
Naomi’s own eyes burned. “She’s okay, Sissy. She’s safe. I promise.”
Sissy sat up straighter, nodded and wiped at her face with the back of her hand, smearing tears across her cheek.
“What . . . ?” She stopped, swallowed, tried again. “What are you calling her? I couldn’t decide on a name. I’m sorry. I just felt overwhelmed.”
Naomi hesitated, unsure how the name would go over. “I’ve been calling her Grace.”
Sissy’s expression shifted into surprise and then something softer. “Grace?”
“Yes. If you want to change it, that’s okay. I just—I don’t know. Something about the name felt right.”
Sissy quickly shook her head. “No, I love it. Grace. Like Grace Kelly?”
Naomi smiled faintly. “Something like that.”
Sissy stared at her baby. “She’s so beautiful.”
“She’s a good baby. Sleeps pretty well. Eats like a champ.”
Sissy nodded, her eyes never leaving Grace. “Thank you for taking care of her. I don’t know what I would have done if—”
She stopped. Didn’t finish.
They sat in silence a moment, watching each other through the glass. Grace kicked her legs, oblivious to the emotional storm happening on the other side of the glass.
“I miss her so much,” Sissy whispered. “Every second. I just . . . I just want to hold her.”
“I know.”
“Does she know I love her?”
Naomi’s throat closed. “Yes. She knows. I tell her every day.”
They talked a few more minutes about surface things, safe things. How Grace liked the mobile over her bassinet. How she made funny faces when she yawned. How Naomi had started reading to her at night even though she was too young to understand.
But Naomi sensed her limited time slipping away.
She shifted in her seat, holding Grace a little tighter. “Sissy, on the phone when you called me . . . before we got cut off . . . you started to say something about Richard’s family. That they’re not good people. That they can’t be near Grace.”
The softness vanished from Sissy’s expression, replaced by something harder. Fearful.
“What did you mean?” Naomi pressed. “What do you know about them?”
Sissy glanced over her shoulder, as if checking to see if anyone was listening. Then she leaned closer to the glass, and her voice dropped. “They’re dangerous, Naomi. More than you know.”
Micah stood a few feet back from the partition, arms crossed as he watched the interaction.
He wasn’t part of this conversation, nor was he supposed to be. This was Naomi’s moment with Sissy—a mother seeing her child, a brief connection across an impossible divide.
But he couldn’t help but listen.
Sissy’s voice came through faintly, muffled by the plexiglass and the phone receiver pressed to Naomi’s ear. But the visitation room was small enough that if he focused, he could catch most of it.
What he heard made his jaw tighten.
“Richard’s family isn’t just about loyalty,” Sissy said. “Dale . . . he runs with people who don’t ask questions. They don’t follow rules. They’re . . . they’re not safe to be around.”
Naomi leaned closer to the glass. “What kind of people?”
“The kind who’d take a baby and not think twice about it. They won’t love her. They’ll use her.”
Micah’s hand curled into a fist at his side. Her words didn’t surprise him, but her confirmation made his adrenaline pump harder.
“What about Richard?” Naomi asked. “Is he a part of this?”
Excellent question.
Sissy hesitated long enough that Micah saw Naomi’s shoulders tense.
“Richard kept me separate from most of it,” Sissy finally said. “He didn’t tell me everything his family was involved in. But I heard things. Saw things. Dale would show up with bruises. With cash he shouldn’t have. And Richard’s mother, Linda, seemed like an expert at making problems go away.”
“What are they involved in? Do you know?”
“I don’t know for sure. But it’s bad. Criminal. The kind of thing that gets people killed if they talk too much.” Sissy’s voice cracked. “And I just know they’ll see Grace as . . . as an asset. Something they can use. I don’t know how, but I know they want her. And when they’re done—”
She didn’t finish.
She didn’t need to.
Micah’s mind worked through everything she said.
If the Hardings had connections to people who operated outside the law—people who’d do unsavory jobs for the right price—then everything that had been happening started to make a different kind of sense.
“Naomi.” Sissy leaned closer to the glass, her eyes desperate. “You have to keep Grace away from them. All of them. Don’t trust Dale. Don’t trust Linda. Don’t let them get close. My baby’s future depends on it.”